They Will Understand
by Thyrisom
Summary: One's final moments are something that cannot be planned for.


(((((((((((((((((((Author's Note: This was an experiment in stream of consciousness and emotion-based writing.)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Rain pattered on Twilight's head as she looked outside at the vacant streets, wishing she was able to walk outside. Her limitation was not with the weather, but with herself, legs too weak to carry the weight of her own body. The alicorn watched her friends wave happily at her from the other side of the street as they walked back.

"See you in a while, Sugarcube!"

"Six Fifty on the dot, you better remember!" Rainbow Dash shouted, soon disappearing down the corner with the rest.

She was in the middle of a sneezing fit, knowing that she should rest while she could before the fever came back.

Leaning back into the warm blankets of the hospital bed, her weary eyes scanned the room around her. The room was packed with gifts from her friends, from books that just hit the shelves to goodies wrapped in boxes for her to eat when she got better.

That was what hurt her most, that little lie. It felt selfish, criminal even, but she couldn't bear to break the news. Her body was shutting down, day by day, yet she had to smile for them. Eventually, she would be gone, and not all the medicine in the world would get her heart to beat again. Each and every day she reflected upon this, wondering where she had gone wrong.

It didn't seem fair. She had only just found the friends she had dreamed of, and become the one she wanted to be. So many goals were checked off, she was almost on page seven, even. All of this effort, her growth tremendous enough to warrant royal appreciation...

The beep of the heart monitor interrupted her thoughts, as it often did when she started to let her mind wander into this horrible minefield of disbelief. She smiled to herself, learning to cherish the ability to do so. Her friends would be here again, they'd be here every day, on the dot, and the least she could do was give them that little bit of hope, no matter how false.

The next hour she whittled away through her books, the words becoming more and more indecipherable as her eyes strained to perform at even half her old capacity. Tales of valor and hope played out in her mind in vague fragments, whenever she could still put together a picture that was. She took a bit of morbid humour away from the situation, chuckling at having to revert back to foals' books for lack of ability to study her old tomes. At least the pictures were bright and sunny, she could lose herself in them when the real world became too much of a burden on her fragile mind.

She tried her best not to tear up when she turned the page of the little reader, the image of a dying knight resting on a bed of roses while his maiden mourned his sacrifice becoming a little too vivid for her. Closing the book solemnly, the approach of a figure out of the corner of her eye faded into her attention. A rather thin colt in a purple robe limped over to her, weak in his gait and slow in his step.

White, frail mane fell across what appeared to be his muzzle, swaying slightly with each step forward he took. His cloak completely covered his body save for feathery grey wings, which were sickly and frayed. In a hoarse voice akin to an ill old man, he glanced towards the book, opening the page back up to the knight.

"It seems like the brightest flames die the fastest, don't they?"

Twilight had never seen this colt before, and he didn't look like hospital staff. But she had received many a visitor in town, it could be anypony.

"I'd rather not think about that right now…" More of a strained whisper than her usual cheery voice, it seemed to take most of her effort to speak.

"I know that it must be… hard for you. Hard to accept that you must cut short this wonderful experience, and break away from all that you loved." He turned to look at her, two green eyes conveying a great pain, guilt even, in her sickness.

Twilight tried to block the inevitable from her mind, tried to delude herself into thinking that some miracle cure would be developed in a week or so, and she'd become all better. But he was right, she'd have to accept that her time was running drastically short.

"But you aren't afraid of dying. No, dying was never your fear." Holding an old photograph, it seemed to be from two years ago, a birthday party with all her friends. A healthy Twilight Sparkle danced in her awkward manner with Pinkie Pie and Applejack, Rarity and Rainbow Dash arguing over a game of go fish, and Spike wheeling a cake through the door.

"Where did you get that?" All of the sadness she had bottled up ever since the doctor handed her the diagnosis came pouring out, eyes watering like wax dripping from a dying candle. She remembered this day, thought of it ever moment she could still recall things in detail. The taste of the cake, the laughter that was shared when Spike dropped his plate and slipped in ice cream trying to pick it up, everything was relived as much as possible.

"Your greatest sorrow is leaving them behind." His voice wavered, putting the photograph on her lap with a shaky hoof.

"Just who are you?" She asked, brushing the photograph aside in an attempt to block it from her vision.

"I've known you since you were born. I've followed you throughout your life, watched your every failure… and every triumph that followed shortly after. Twilight, you're a very special pony." A hoof reached to brush scraggy mane from her face, robe falling away and letting dirty bone reflect in the dim light from the lamp by her bed.

Twilight gasped and turned her gaze to his face. She didn't want this to be true, she begged and pleaded in her mind, 'Please don't be him.' She sobbed silently, heart skipping a beat as he pulled his hood down to reveal a skull with sorrowful green eyes, while hair still clinging to the bone on his head. An hourglass hung around his neck, purple sand falling slowly down into the bottom container. She gave it a glance, noting that there couldn't possibly be more than a few minutes left.

Hastily, she glanced at the clock and waited for her poor eyes to bring the red numbers into focus.

"Six… twenty…" She mumbled, the time hitting her like a chunk of lead. With a defeated sputter, she turned toward her skeletal visitor and stared at him with pleading eyes.

"Why now?" She sobbed, she only had thirty minutes to go, and it just wasn't fair.

"Twilight, we all have our time. As much as it pains us, we cannot just put it off until another hour. Your friends love you, and they'll understand." He reached between his rib cage and extracted a small blade, which slowly folded out into a long scythe. She saw the gleam of the sharpened edge, her sickly countenance reflecting back at her as a reminder of how far she had deteriorated.

"Please… give me another hour… I'll go after that, I promise!" She clutched at his robe, crying in a fit.

He stood mute, keeping an eye on the sand. It was down to just a few grains, each sliding down the tube and landing in the chamber below, and Twilight could feel herself growing cold.

"Anything, I'll do anything! Please, let me see them one more time!" She pounded on his shoulder with all the force she could muster, hoping to smite the demon away from her, save her own life. She didn't want to die this way, not alone and begging like a child for just a few more measly minutes. There was no maiden here to mourn for her, just a beeping heart monitor and the cold chill of an open window. She gave one final glance to the hour glace, just one grain to go.

With her final battle over, she resigned, her threatening hold melting into a desperate hug, wanting there to be at least something to comfort her while she faded away into death. Two bony hooves wrapped around her midsection, holding her tightly in a final gesture of kindness before laying her back down in bed.

Her eyes followed the blade of the harvesting tool, watching it fall onto her chest and cut through to her very soul, everything melting away into a cold, stiff nothingness before her last conscious image burned itself into her mind. With the most effort she had ever put into anything, she raised the photo of the party, staring at it with every ounce of courage and strength she had, racking her panicked mind to focus on it and nothing else. Each face was scanned and studied, every little crack in the wall, the windowsill, the cloth on the chairs, everything…

And then nothing.


End file.
